


And They Could Never Tear Us Apart

by Wyrd_Syster



Series: Two Worlds Collided [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, But with a happy ending this time, F/M, Fridging is a lazy storytelling technique, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sibling Bonding, Time Travel Fix-It, always angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyrd_Syster/pseuds/Wyrd_Syster
Summary: So.There was a bullet. An impossible bullet from an impossible gun. Both existed out of time, ghostly interlopers with present-day consequences.A gun fired, and time was out of joint. The intent of the action was clear--a trigger was pulled to end a life, and its purpose was met. A bullet flew and Eudora Patch's was cut short.But, there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. A ripple through space and time added another variable to the mix, who fell through the air and raced to the room and arrived just in time.Special providence, indeed..OR.The Hargreeves avoid the apocalypse by traveling back in time. With years to regroup, plan, and heal, Diego sets his mind to saving Eudora Patch. But, time travel is tricky business, and even if he does succeed, how does he face the woman he loves with so many years of pain between them?





	And They Could Never Tear Us Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I am posting the FINAL PART of TWC. This chapter is otherwise known as ‘Wyrd-Syster Hates Fridging,’ and/or ‘Fridging Is A Useless Narrative Technique When You Have Characters That Can Literally Time Travel.’
> 
> A few things: Time Travel is a really dumb narrative device, writing the Hargreeves interacting is hella fun, and my roommate (who beta'd this and all other chapters of TWC without ever watching the show) commented "klaus is my favorite; idk him, but i love him."

So.

There was a bullet. A bullet that came from a gun that hadn’t been manufactured since the mid-1950s. It was a gun that, for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t have even been fired--it should have rusted away to ruin decades ago.

But, the gun did fire and the bullet, devoid of rust and ruin, hit its mark point blank. And the mark falls.

There were three guns in the room--more than three if you want to be specific but really only three guns in active play.

The sad man has a gun, but it was on the ground. He had dropped it at the insistence of the mark, and although the weapon was lethal and in perfect working condition, he had let it slide from his fingertips and hit the ground with a thud as he held his hands above his head in submission.

There is a timeline where this doesn’t happen. There is a timeline where the man decides not to submit, because he is, after all, very good at what he does, and uses his gun. In this timeline, his gun is clenched in his good hand, aimed at the officer, and the trigger is pulled. The bullet sails through the air and, depending on his precision and his nerve, hits its intended target. And the mark falls.

There is another gun in the room, the one being held by the mark. This gun is newly manufactured, well cared-for, and seldom used. The mark holds it confidently in both hands and aims it at the man who is caught. The mark never gets a chance to use this gun because of the bullet.

But, there is another timeline where the mark shoots. She shoots her gun and, because she is not aiming to kill, hits the sad man in the knee. And the man falls, and maybe he shoots out wildly, but it’s very unlikely any of these bullets hit the mark.

But still, in this timeline too, the mark falls, because the bullet that kills her comes from the third gun, the gun she didn’t account for. The gun aimed at her back.

The third gun is held by the assassin. She holds it like an extension of her own arm, her finger and the trigger all but melded together to be the same entity. The assassin aims the gun at the mark’s back and shoots the bullet that flies through its intended trajectory and hits the mark point-blank between the shoulders.

In every timeline, the mark falls. She falls because her death is the distraction that lets the captured man escape. And when he escapes he runs too far away, back to a time before the mark and the sad man and the assassin. He runs into a war zone and meets his soulmate and loses his soulmate, and ultimately that pain makes him who he is today.

So, there are three guns, one bullet, and a man who needs to escape so he can fall in love and lose that love and become the man who he was meant to be.

So, what do you do with the mark? Do you let her die to further a man’s story or do you rescue her? And then, how to rescue her and still let the pieces fall where the pieces ought to fall?

It’s an extraordinary riddle, a challenge.

Good thing Five loves a challenge.  

\---

Traveling through time was hard enough as a solo trip. Bringing along five passengers? Well, it’s a wonder they all survived.

And shockingly they did more than survive--they brought along a sixth passenger. Five had brought them far enough into the past that, when they all materialized in the Icarus Theater in April 2003, Ben was standing behind Klaus, alive and very perplexed out how he had come to be there.

“I think,” Allison said, exercising her newly restored vocal chords. “You need to explain how this all just happened, Five.”

It took some time.

They hunkered down in the theater, a total disarray of plywood, half-constructed opera boxes and faulty wiring-- _Closed For Renovations (Grand Re-Opening Spring 2005)_ read the sign plastered on the door. It was as good a place as any to camp out for the time being while they figured out the next step.

“Why can’t we just go home?” Luther asked Five. He was shifting some of the construction work aside, making it safer to walk through without the fear of falling beams.

“I already told you,” Five snapped. “ _You’re_ still all at the Academy, that timeline hasn’t changed. What do you think would happen if you saw a doppelgänger waltz through the doors right now, huh? Either you would kill your future self  _or_ your past self, and either way, the repercussions would be astronomic.”

“None of us is stupid enough to kill our past selves,” Diego argued.

“You are fully that stupid.”

“You better watch it,” Diego snapped, coming at Five menacingly. Luther held him back, a look of resignation crossing his face. “We’re the same age now, I have no problem kicking your ass.”

“No one is kicking anyone's ass,” Allison said, trying to get in between the brothers, a placating hand on Five’s shoulder.

“He couldn’t even if he tried,” Five scoffed. “And did you forget? I’ve spent decades in the future. Though we are merely _trapped_ in the bodies of our adolescence, I am still much older than you.”

“And if you think I have a problem with kicking your _geriatric ass_ you better--”

“Diego,” Vanya’s voice, which had always been quiet and sad, seemed harsher now. Or, at least, it seemed so to Diego. In any case, it held a lot more authority to him than it used to, and he backed off from Five, looking sheepishly at his sister.

“Sorry,” he murmured to her. She was still trying to adjust, and her nerves were paper thin. Without her anxiety medication even little fights were triggers, and he was trying, _really trying_ , to be a better brother for her. And not startle her into accidentally causing a premature apocalypse.

“It’s okay,” she said to him. Then to Five, “But he has a point, you know. None of us are that dumb.”

Five rolled his eyes with the theatrics of a man who had seen too much in this world. “ _Fi_ _ne_. You’re all geniuses. The fact remains that interfering with your past timelines at this point in time is a bad idea, one we will be avoiding.”

“Yeah, here’s another question, _Doc Brown_ ,” Klaus called up from where he had nested himself in the destroyed velvet lining from the front row of the audience. “You can see Ben, right?”

“I’m literally right here,” Ben sighed, sitting to the corner of the stage, immersed in a playbill he had found backstage. “You don’t need to talk for me anymore, Klaus.”

After a decade or so of haunting, his ability to communicate with any of his siblings other than Klaus was severely limited. He didn’t seem to have the energy or the wherewithal to attempt to engage them, not just yet. So, much like the ghost he was accustomed to being, he stood around the edges of conversations, listening and reading. One of his few concessions to life, though, was he changed up his reading material. Today it was an old playbill, yesterday had been a magazine with a ripped cover.

“Okay, but my question is _why_?” Klaus asked, laughing. “Or, maybe _how_ is our dearly departed Benny-Wenny back amongst the living?” He thought for a moment. “You are amongst the living, are ye not, Goody Ben?”

“I could punch you again and see if that proves it,” Ben grumbled.

“Aha! But you could punch me from the Great Beyond, dear brother, so how would that prove anything?”

“I don’t know!” Five shouted over their bickering. “I don’t know _how_ Ben is here or _why_ but he is so let’s move on.”

“Klaus brings up a good point, though,” Luther said. “If we go back to the future--er I mean, _our_ future--does that mean Ben will die?”

That got Ben’s attention. He whipped his head up, staring in horror at Five.

Five, for his part, looked between the two, and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

A beat. Then…

“How could you have no idea--!?”

“No idea? So he’s just going to die--?”

“Jesus, Five, you couldn’t sugar coat that a little--?”

“GUYS.” Vanya’s burst shook the rafters, making sawdust rain down on their heads. Allison rushed over to her. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Vanya said quickly. “Sorry.”

“Look, I wish I had answers for you, but I don’t,” Five said to them all, sounding just a little bit sorry. “My original involvement with this timeline ended ages before now, so I never really trained up on this time travel stuff. It is likely Ben is with us now because _you_ , Klaus, had him tied to your presence when we traveled, and as the rest of us materialized as we would’ve in an unaltered timeline, so he’s here too.”

“Good enough for me,” Ben grumbled.

“Well, it’s not for me,” Luther groused.

“It’s going to have to be,” Five said.

And that seemed to end it.

\---

They couldn’t go home, and the Icarus Theater--vacant and stalled in reconstruction after a mysterious zoning violation notice crossed the desk of the city office--served as nesting area for the seven Hargreeves siblings as they figured out the plan.

“And what’s the plan?” Vanya asked, bitterly. “Putting me out of my misery? _Fixing_ me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you that needs _fixing_ ,” Allison said, vehemently. “We just need to channel your powers so they don’t hurt you and they don’t hurt us.”

“And so you don’t blow up the moon,” Klaus said idly. Luther shot him a sharp look and Klaus shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

“I don’t think we can just skate over the larger picture here,” Luther said pointedly at Allison. “Vanya’s powers are a _problem_. We can’t pretend like they’re not.”

“But you have no trouble pretending like I’m not here,” Vanya snarked.

Luther said nothing, avoiding her gaze. He had been doing that a lot here. In part out of guilt, that much was clear. But acknowledging Vanya meant acknowledging her power, how her star had suddenly vastly outstripped his own. She was a variable he couldn’t control, and that made him uneasy.

Diego, for his part, gloried in Luther’s unease. There was too much bad blood, too much shit left unsaid for how their glorious Number One had treated their sister in her most desperate time, and Diego had firmly planted himself in Vanya’s corner. He knew a thing or two about anger, about lashing out at the people you love the most. And if Allison had so readily forgiven their sister, then why shouldn’t he? Allison could be her guiding light as she tried to heal, but Diego would be her muscle.

Ben laid a comforting hand on Vanya’s knee. “Lot of power in being invisible, don’t knock it,” he whispered to her, making her smile.

“My powers are no more a problem than yours, or Allison’s,” Vanya said to Luther. “I just need to practice, get control of them before they control me.”

“She’s exactly right,” Five said. He stood up and brushed dirt off his knees. “And there’s no time like the present. Shall we?”

So as Vanya and Five trained, the other five siblings huddled and planned. Get back to the future, save the world. Easy.

\---

“I want to save Eudora.”

The seven of them had been gathered in a circle, eating dinner on the half-finished stage in a somewhat relaxed manner. Diego’s interruption effectively killed that mood.

“Who? The lady cop?” Klaus asked.

Diego nodded. “The way I’ve been thinking about it, her death is tied to the apocalypse, same as everyone else. She would still be alive if not for Hazel and Cha-Cha, the literal agents of the end of the world. Saving her is part of stopping this mess.”

There were pitying looks from his siblings, looks that made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He didn’t want their pity, but goddamnit, he’d use it to his advantage if he had to. If they were getting a do-over, that meant _he_ was getting a proper do-over for everything, and that meant Eudora.

“Diego, I’m sorry, I know she meant a lot to you,” Luther began, uncomfortably. “But to go out of our way for one person--”

“I don’t care what the rest of you do,” Diego snapped. “She’s not just ‘one person’ to me, she is _my_ person and I’m planning on saving her this time.”

“But, how?” Klaus asked weakly. He looked ashamed. “I don’t want to fridge your girlfriend or anything, Diego, but she set off a pattern of events in _my_ life that included me time-traveling and meeting my soulmate.”

“So?”

“So,” Klaus stressed. “How come I have to lose my soulmate for you to get yours? That’s hardly fair.”

Diego bared his teeth at his brother, enraged. A thousand nasty thoughts flitted through his mind. _She wouldn’t be dead now if not for you, if you hadn’t been stupid enough to get captured, if you had been smarter, if you had cared, if you had tried--!_

Allison laid a hand on Diego’s arm and shot him a warning look. It was an extremely maternal gesture, which seemed odd coming from the face of the fifteen-year-old brat she had been.

She turned to Five. “There has to be some way we can make this work, right?” she asked. “We’re doing all this work, all this planning. There has to be a way to add one person to the list of billions were saving _and_ develop a timeline where Klaus finds Dave, right? Five?”

Five looked at them all, thoughtfully. Diego felt his heart stuttering in his chest, holding his breath, hoping, praying--

“I think it’s possible,” Five said at last. “Challenging, but very possible.”

All the breath came out of Diego in a _WHOOSH_ and he laughed in disbelief. He felt light all of the sudden, giddy with the possibilities.

He was going to save Eudora.

\---

He was never going to save Eudora, this shit was impossible.

“Okay, walk me through what happened one more time, _exactly_ how it happened,” Five said to Klaus, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion.

Klaus groaned, his head lolling side to side in exasperation. “I can keep telling you this story over and over again, but it’s not going to change. Lady cop sneaks through the door--”

“Her name is _Eudora_ ,” Diego snapped for what felt like the millionth time.

Klaus threw up his hands. “Fine! _Eudora_ \--the lady cop with the bad name and worse taste in men--”

“You better watch it--!”

“-- _Snuck through the door_ ,” Klaus continued on loudly over Diego. “She untied me. Hazel made noise from the bathroom so she threw me--like, physically _threw me_ \--to the side and shot at him when he came out. I saw an air vent and--as I had been _tortured_ for the past, I don’t know, _day_ \--I figured ‘hey! Escape time!’ I was also sober for the first time in like a year, so I wasn’t thinking too clearly. And I just knew I needed to get _out_ , so I started climbing through the air duct. I was halfway through when I heard the gunshot, but I didn’t know if the la-- _Eudora_ , sorry--had shot Hazel or if someone had shot her. I just knew they were distracted, so I used that time to finish my grand escape.” He sighed dramatically. “And thus endeth my tale.”

He had drawn a stick-figure diagram for them to see as well, complete with a ghost labelled “Ben” in the corner. He used it as a visual guide as he told his story over and over and over again.

Diego groaned. “This is impossible.”

He was getting more and more upset by the minute. It had seemed so simple to him--get in, kick some ass, save the day, get out. Apparently, there were complications. Complications like he wasn’t allowed to touch Hazel or Cha-Cha (“No action that alters _their_ specific movements through the timeline,” Five had said firmly.) Complications like he couldn’t just stop Eudora from going to the motel in the first place (“I would never escape!” Klaus argued).

Couldn’t teleport in and get her out because Five wasn’t faster than a gun. Couldn’t freeze time and stop a bullet. Couldn’t do this, couldn’t do that, couldn’t fucking save the woman he loved. And Diego had just about had it.

“What we need,” Five mused. “Is a way for your Eudora to go about her actions and end up incapacitated rather than dead. That way, the timeline proceeds as planned, but with one less dead body.” He sighed. “Of course, Hazel and Cha-Cha are the ‘shoot first, ask later’ sorts, so I don’t see how we get them to _not_ shoot her, especially when she has her own gun drawn.”

“Maybe it's not about the act of shooting, but the bullet itself,” Allison mused. She had been standing in the corner with Ben, watching him watching them. When she wasn’t glued to Vanya’s side, she was glued to his, trying to use her maternal instincts to fix what made the two Hargreeves volatile and ghostly with the rest. It was if she assumed her continued presence would, by some osmosis, fix what she couldn’t name that needed fixing.

“What are you talking about?” Diego huffed.

Allison stepped into the group, her face lighting up with wonder at her own epiphany. “All actions remain the same, the only thing that changes is the _outcome_. If you can stop the bullet from doing irreparable damage, Eudora still remains incapacitated, Hazel and Cha-Cha are distracted, Klaus escapes, but this time Eudora _doesn’t die_.”

“And how,” Diego asked, “are we supposed to stop a bullet aimed right at her heart from doing damage?”

Allison motioned with her hands. “We curve the bullet.”

Diego had never loved his sister more.

\---

All his life, Diego understood that his power was useless if he wasn’t able to hone his body into a weapon. What could was curving a throw if it landed short, if it lacked the necessary muscle behind it to have real impact?

It was one of the few things he and Reginald agreed on, although their methods of achieving their goals varied wildly. Diego wanted to play sports like other kids, maybe baseball. Reginald had something a little more serious in mind.

Up at dawn every day, running laps and doing sit-ups and pull-ups. Lifting weights, boxing, martial arts for hours and hours and hours with no break. Moving targets were installed in the basement, and Diego had to hit each one at a speed and precision that was just inhuman.

When he was tired, his father pushed him harder. When he stumbled, he was yelled at. When he cried, he was scoffed at. When he stuttered, he was bullied. His fingers slipped on knives that were too sharp for a kid to handle, splicing the skin to the bone, pouring blood on the floor. His shoulders dislocated more than once after hours of vigorous routines. He passed out on a number of occasions from dehydration and exhaustion, and he was chided for his weakness.

In the end, Reginald was pleased with the weapon he had made out of Diego’s body. For his part, Diego was pleased too because his dad had underestimated him--he hadn’t just made him a weapon, he had been made _the_ weapon of the Hargreeves clan. He was faster than Luther, stronger than Klaus and Ben, more cunning than Allison.

Even though his body transformation had been a result from his father’s cruelty, Diego had complete control over every aspect of it. And it made his powers flow naturally through him, little more than a muscle extension as he reared back and, in smooth elegant motions, let his knives cut through the air and hit their targets. Anything he threw was still just an extension of him, and he could control where an object landed the same way he controlled where his feet stepped.

But he had never tried to exert his control over someone else’s body, had never tried to change the course of another object’s trajectory.

It was hard work.

The effort felt like shooting a bullet to hit another out of the air, his grasp and control on outside forces so thin and nebulous. Stopping an object, he found, wasn’t too draining. All he had to do was reach out and find the path in the sky on which something traveled and sever the connection. But to change the course of movement, it was like building tracks for an oncoming train. He could be fast, but never fast enough. Agile, but never enough. Never enough, never enough.

“You have to stop beating yourself up, man,” Klaus said to him one day.

Diego had been in the lobby with the tennis ball machine Luther and Allison had found at a local pawn shop. Fill it with little green tennis balls and they shot straight at their intended target at regular intervals. Diego was trying to change their target, but with no luck.

Diego scowled at him. “Sorry, are you trying to give me advice? You?”

“You know I have been in and out of rehab a shocking five times,” Klaus said, unperturbed by Diego’s attitude. “And I did pick up a few things at those kumbaya drum circles they do.”

“What kind of rehabs was dad paying for that had drum circles?” Diego wondered, sinking against the wall next to his brother, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Klaus grinned. “Only the best for your favorite fuck-up.” He batted his eyelashes prettily, and Diego couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What magical woo-woo self-love secret did you learn while failing to get sober?” he asked.

“Well, first off, ‘failing to get sober’ implies I was putting any effort into my sobriety, so please don’t taint my story like that,” Klaus said in a mock-serious tone. “Second, I already _gave_ you my advice; stop beating yourself up.”

“You say that like it’s easy. Like I can just snap my fingers and stop.”

“Diego,” Klaus said, suddenly very serious. “It’s not your fault Eudora died.”

He felt his breath freeze in his lungs. “Klaus,” he warned.

“I mean it, man, _it’s not your fault_ ,” Klaus insisted. “Eudora made decisions and those decisions led her to that motel room. That’s not on you, Diego.”

“I...I goaded her into it though,” Diego said softly, as if just to himself. “Earlier, I had said she should try things my way and--”

“Stop,” Klaus said, firmly. “Whatever you did or didn’t say, you can’t take _responsibility_ for what she ended up doing. You have enough problems, Diego, don’t add this to the list.”

“Speak for yourself,” Diego scoffed. Then, softer, “Thanks.”

“Hey, what are brothers for?”

“In your case? Bail money.”

“ _Ha_ , very funny.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Klaus stood up, clapping Diego on the shoulder.

“Come on, lazybones, up and at ‘em. Can’t rescue your girlfriend if you don’t practice,” said Klaus.

Diego groaned, but followed Klaus to his feet. “This whole thing feels pointless,” he complained. “I can’t curve the balls coming from this machine, I’m useless.”

“Less complaining, more curving,” Klaus teased.

He grabbed a tennis ball from the top of the machine feed and threw it lightly at Diego’s head. Without even thinking, Diego raised his hand to bat the ball away but missed spectacularly, which was only because, at the swing of his hand, the ball turned in mid-air and flew right back to its source, smacking Klaus’ palm.

They both stared.

“Do that again,” Diego urged.

Klaus did. The ball curved again, this time to the left.

“Again,” Diego insisted. The ball swung to the right.

Diego was grinning wildly, his heart racing. “Klaus,” he said.

“One more time with the machine,” Klaus said, hurrying over to load the contraption with more tennis balls.

Diego nodded, getting in place, but this time the ball soared at him and didn’t curve, smacking him right in the chest.

“Mother _fucker_ \--”

“No, wait!” Klaus cautioned, setting the machine up again. “Hold on, I have a theory, let’s test it.”

He grabbed hold of the machine and physically aimed it at his brother. “Okay, try now.”

The ball shot through the air and Diego curved its trajectory so that it avoided him completely, hitting the wall to his left with a dull thud.

“I don’t understand,” Diego said, staring at the ball rolling on the ground. “Why did it work that time?”

“I think it makes perfect sense,” Five said, suddenly making his presence known behind the two of them.

“ _FUCK_ , Five, you can’t just sneak up on us like this!” Klaus yelped, jumping a foot in the air.

“What makes sense?” Diego asked, ignoring Klaus.

“When you throw a knife, Diego, you throw with _intent_ for it to curve.  A machine has no intent--Klaus does.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too,” Klaus said, still scowling at Five.

“No, you weren’t,” Five snarked. “You just wanted an excuse to throw a ball at Diego.”

“Yeah, well, the two are not mutually exclusive!”

“This is such bullshit,” Diego interrupted, half annoyed, half excited. “But if that’s the bullshit I need to save Eudora, I’ll take it.”

“Is this enough, though?” Klaus asked, hurriedly. “Enough to save Diego’s girlfriend?”

“Only one way to find out,” Five said. “We need to practice with a gun.”

Diego wasn’t so sure he liked the grin on his brothers’ faces.

\---

So.

There was a bullet. An impossible bullet from an impossible gun. Both existed out of time, ghostly interlopers with present-day consequences.

A gun fired, and time was out of joint. The intent of the action was clear--a trigger was pulled to end a life, and its purpose was met. A bullet flew and a life was cut short.

But, there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. A ripple through space and time added another variable to the mix, who fell through the air and raced to the room and arrived just in time.

Special providence, indeed.

The impossible bullet still shot out of the impossible gun. But, _impossibly_ , the bullet broke skin and curved, avoiding major arteries and permanent damage. And the mark still fell and the man still escaped and the assassins still ran off into the bleak twilight to hunt their quarry.

But, in the still quiet of the room, the mark whimpered in pain, blood pooling under her body. Impossibly alive and in an _impossible_ amount of pain, not sure how much longer she would remain conscious to understand her predicament.

And in the dim, dying light she heard her name being yelled, felt the pull of arms hauling her up. And right before she let herself slip into unconsciousness, she saw a pair of lovely, dark eyes.

\---

Diego could easily admit that yeah, maybe he wasn’t the best with his emotions. Maybe years of being treated as a number and not a person stunted him a little, maybe he clung to his robotic mother the same way baby monkeys clung to terry cloth dolls in those horrible psych experiments he had read about.

So yeah, he wasn’t great at emotional intelligence, or whatever, but he sure as shit knew the difference between _angry_ and _anxious_ and right now he was fuming.

“They’ve been in there with her for ages now!” he seethed to Vanya, pacing back-and-forth across the waiting room. “What’s taking them so long? Why can’t I see her?”

“Diego, please, you have to calm down,” Vanya said. “You’re letting your anxiety get the better of you.”

Diego rounded on her. “I am not anxious!” he snapped. “I just need to see her!”

Vanya raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing, crossing her arms and settling back into her chair.

Around them, the hospital waiting room was quiet, the constant buzzing of the fluorescent lights only broken up by the occasional cough or sneeze from the few patients waiting to be seen. The two Hargreeves had followed the ambulance carrying Eudora in, only to be stopped there by Beeman.

“Hargreeves, you better tell me _what the fuck happened here_ , or so help me-!” Beeman had shouted, shoving Diego hard in the chest.

Diego stumbled back and held up his hands in submission. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” he said slowly. “All I know is I heard Eudora was hurt and I need to see her.”

“How do you know she was hurt if you weren’t at the scene?” Beeman asked, looking very much like he wanted to shoot Diego right then and there before he continue his line of questioning.

Diego rolled his eyes. “Man, I’m from a family of fucking superheroes, do you really have to ask?”

“Detective,” Vanya came forward, laying a placating hand on Diego’s arm and shooting him a warning glance. “You know my brother is close with Detective Patch. Please, is there any way he can see her?”

“She was _shot_ , Hargreeves,” Beeman yelled, ignoring Vanya completely. “Off duty, no back-up. This has your influence written all over it, and I am going to prove that one way or another.”

At that, Diego bristled, anger swooping through him. He moved to lunge at Beeman, but he was stopped by Vanya stepping between them.

“Detective, if you’re going to charge Diego with something, then charge him,” she snapped, eyes flashing white. The air around the three of them stilled. “But, if you’re going to threaten him with no evidence you better be careful.”

The time and training in the past had done Vanya a world of good. She was still quiet and soft as snow, but now possessed the icy bite of a blizzard. Her powers no longer seemed to use her as a vessel of destruction but instead grafted onto her like a second skin, and pure energy seemed to light through every one of her pores. She was a supernova, a black hole, the end and beginning of everything. And still, beyond all of that, she was his sister, standing between him and a perceived threat.

“Is that a threat?” Beeman asked, failing to keep his voice from shaking.

“A promise,” Vanya said. She stepped closer, towering over him even though she was a good foot shorter. “And I always keep my promises, detective.”

“Vee,” Diego warned, failing to keep the smirk from his face. Then, to Beeman, “Look man, I’m just worried. Is she going to be okay? Can I see her?”

Beeman looked between the two, torn somewhere between anger and fright. Finally, he sighed. “Last I heard, Eudora is in surgery. The bullet entered her in the back and went out her shoulder--clean through and through--but they’re doing some laparoscopic work to clean it up. It should be a few hours before she’s ready to talk.”

Diego groaned and sank into the nearest chair. A few hours. He only had so much time.

“We’ll be waiting, then,” Vanya said cooly, sinking into the chair next to him.

“Fine, have at it,” Beeman snapped. He pointed a finger menacingly at Diego. “But, Hargreeves, I’m warning you, if I find one black thread at that motel room I am arresting you.”

“And I’ll be all yours, Chuck,” Diego sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew his fingerprints were all over the scene, and sooner or later the 911 call would be traced back to Vanya, but that was a problem for another day.

\---

Diego wasn’t sure what to expect when the nurse finally called him back to Eudora’s room. It was just after one in the morning, and Vanya was nodding off in her chair. She grumbled at him when he awoke her to say he was going, and he made the trek through the waiting room to the private rooms alone.

The walk felt endless. Even though Diego knew she was alive--knew because he had _saved her_ , goddamnit--the thought of seeing her lying broken on a hospital bed would be too much for him. And he still didn’t know what he was going to say when he saw her. So much had happened, so many years had passed for him. How to explain it all?

He pushed through the door and…

“You’re up?”

Eudora Patch was sitting on a hospital bed, fully clothed, attempting to fill-out what looked like discharge papers left-handed. He right arm was in a sling, bandages peeking out from under the collar of her shirt, stretched around her clavicle. A slight sheen of sweat shined on her brow, and her hair was undone and tangled about her shoulders. But she was alive. So very, very alive.

“Are you my ride home?” Eudora asked blandly. “Beeman said I had someone in the waiting room, just figured it would be my mom.”

“Ride home?” Diego repeated, dumbly. “Aren’t you staying here?”

Eudora rolled her eyes. “Diego, the bullet was a clean shot, nothing to freak out over. A few weeks of light PT on my shoulder, and I should be back to normal.”

Diego gaped at her. This wasn’t at all what he was expecting.

Eudora ignored him and finished scrawling on the clipboard. “Just got to hand this to the nurses’ station, and I think I’m set. Would you mind grabbing the bag over there? It has my keys and my pain pills.”

He did as he was told, numbly walking over and grabbing the plastic bag and swiping the clipboard from Eudora’s hands. She shook her head, smiling a little, and slid off the bed, following him out.

Vanya was waiting for them in the hall. Eudora stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her.

“Vanya? What the hell--?”

“You’re leaving? But you were shot,” Vanya’s face was the picture of bewilderment. Diego felt it mirrored his own. “Dee, why is she leaving?”

“Dee?” Eudora repeated, turning astonished eyes to Diego. “What the hell is going on here? Why is she here? Last I heard, you two weren’t talking.”

“We’ve made up,” Diego said, gruffly. To Vanya, “Eudora wants to rest at home, so that’s where I’m taking her.”

Vanya looked between the two of them. “Alright,” she said, slowly. “But remember, five hours, Dee.”

“Five hours, I’ve got you,” Diego said. “You have a ride back?”

“I’ll call Five.”

“Good, I’ll see you then.”

Vanya nodded. Then, to a very confused Eudora. “I’m glad you’re alright. We were all worried.”

When Vanya left, Eudora rounded on “Diego, what is going on? Why was Vanya here? ‘We were all worried?’ What’s happening?”

Everything suddenly felt like it was slipping away from him. “It’s a long story.”

\---

The ride home was quiet. Diego didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust his mouth to form the words he needed.

Eudora eyed him oddly. “You know, if this silent treatment is supposed to be penance or something you can cut it out. It’s unnerving.”

“Pen-n-nance,” the word was clunky in his mouth, his tongue freezing halfway through. “Why would I need to do pen-n-- _fuck--_ say I’m sorry?”

“For missing my call? Thanks for that, by the way,” she said sarcastically. “My captain is going to have a field day when he knows I went into a hot room without backup.” 

Diego was sure he was going to be sick. “Uh, sorry about that. I was out looking for my brother.”

“He was in that room!” Eudora said. “I got him out! At least, I think I got him out, there’s a few details missing there. Did I get him out?” The pain meds were making her chatty, and Diego hadn’t realized until this moment how much he had missed the sound of her voice. The thought was painful and he shook it off.

“He’s fine,” Diego said, stiffly. “I was actually looking for my other brother. Five. Found him too.”

“Five?” Eudora screwed up her forehead in thought. “I thought you lost him when he was a kid?”

“We did,” Diego said, carefully. “But he found his way back. Look, like I said, a lot of shit has happened, and I promise I will tell you everything, but let’s get you home first, okay?”

“Fine.” Eudora settled back into her seat, drumming her fingers on her knee. She eyed Diego suspiciously.

“You know,” she said, casually, “the doctors were telling me they’ve never seen a bullet wound like mine before.”

“Is that so?” Diego asked, his pulse quickening.

“Yes, it is so,” Eudora said. “They said, the strange thing was, the bullet entered my back and came out my shoulder. Almost as if it had _curved_.”

“Hmmm,” Diego hummed non-committedly. He was definitely going to be sick. This whole thing was getting away from him, like he had missed a step walking down the stairs and couldn’t regain his footing.

“Diego? Did you have something to do with this?”

He swallowed. “Yes,” he admitted. “And I will tell you everything, I promise, just please, _please_ let’s get to your apartment first, okay?”

“Why?” Eudora asked. “I want to know _now_.”

“Eudora, please,” Diego begged.

“Fine!” she snapped. “But I want the whole story, do you hear me? No lies.”

“You will get the whole truth. Nothing but the truth.”

“So help you, god?”

“So help me, god,” Diego couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, the tension easing from the pit of his stomach.

The rest of the ride was quiet.

\---

Diego had to open the door to the apartment for Eudora as her uninjured left hand kept fumbling with the keys. She huffed at him before handing them over.

“I’m not telling you where I keep the spare,” she said, stalking past him into her home.

“Give me some credit, Eudora, I am plenty skilled at breaking into homes without a spare key,” Diego said, following in after her.

He hadn’t been inside her new place, his past visits relegated to the front porch. The space was smaller but homier than her last apartment, the kitchen and living room separated by a wall instead of an island shelf, shelving units in the hallway overflowing with her books and loose papers. Old flowers wilted in their vase on the kitchen table, the mildewy honey scent wafting through the air, heady and sad.

Ignoring the scene around him, Diego ushered Eudora into her bedroom (surprisingly tidy, clothes neatly folded on a chair just next to her bed, the surfaces scattered with loose earrings but generally spotless) and got her situated. She complained the whole time about her hair, her shoes, her aching shoulder, but she let Diego lead her through the motions.

“Okay, Diego, time’s up,” Eudora said, finally sitting against her bed frame, looking halfway comfy. “You need to start talking and you need to start talking _now_.”

Carefully, Diego sat at the foot of her bed. Now that the moment had come, he didn’t know where to start. He picked at her bedspread. His heart was beating painfully in his chest and his tongue felt overlarge. He couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Diego?”

“I...I don’t know where to begin,” Diego said, quietly. He looked at her, her eyes warm and soft and brown. “There’s so much.”

“Let’s start with the weirdos in the mask,” Eudora offered. “And then we can go from there.”

“Hazel and Cha-Cha,” Diego supplied. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Okay.”

As he had promised, Diego told Eudora all of it. His father’s death, the return of Five, the apocalypse, Harold Jenkins, Vanya. Eudora was a good and patient listener, chiming in every so often asking for clarification, but otherwise remaining silent.

Then, there was the time travel. The years spent in his adolescent body. The work it had taken to train Vanya to control herself, the training he had completed to improve his powers.

“Why was it so important to learn how to curve someone else’s bullet, Diego?” Eudora asked, sensing the deliberate vagueness of this detail. “What were you trying to hit?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I was trying to stop a bullet from doing damage.”

“To what?”

“To you,” Diego said. He searched her face, taking in her surprise, her fear, the sudden sharp flare of anger.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Eudora looked at him, understanding suddenly dawning. “Because I died the last time, didn’t I?”

Her eyes were trained on his, and he couldn’t look away, couldn’t lie to her, had promised her the whole truth, no matter how much it hurt. “Yes. Cha-Cha shot you and you...you died.”

The word reverberated between them. Eudora’s face was shuttered, her eyes taking on a distant quality, looking past Diego and not quite focused on anything.

“And then what happened?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

“I told you, Hazel and Cha-Cha were after Five so we--”

“No, not that,” she cut him off. “After I was ki...after I was shot, what happened?”

“I found you,” Diego said, closing his eyes. In his mind, he still saw every moment, every step that had led him to that door. “I had been out looking for Five and I missed your message. I found you and you were…” He took a deep breath, the image of her lifeless body flashing before his closed eyes, the keening pain breaking his chest in two. How her skin had been cold against his fingers, how he had begged her to open her eyes, half believing he could will her to life. The shattering grief that had wrecked his being when he realized he couldn’t. “I went after Hazel and Cha-Cha.”

“And did you get them?” Eudora asked, still feigning neutrality.

“No,” Diego said. “I was going to, but in the end…”

“In the end what?”

“I...I didn’t think you would like that,” Diego said. “I didn’t want to insult your memory.”

A myriad of emotions passed over Eudora’s face, one right after the other, too quick for Diego to discern. The air between them felt thin, and even though they were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, he felt too close, suffocated.

“Also, uh, I was arrested under the suspicion of homicide and then the apocalypse happened so there wasn’t a whole lot of time for revenge,” Diego said quickly, trying to break Eudora from her reverie.

It worked. “ _You_ ? They thought _you_ got me?” she asked incredulously. “That’s absurd. Do you even know how to use a gun?”

“I know how to use a gun. Any idiot can use a gun,” Diego rolled his eyes. “Don’t be too mad, but Chuck helped me escape jail.”

“Beeman? Really?” Eudora looked impressed. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”

“He seemed pretty shocked by it too.”

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes still distant. “So, five hours?”

“It’s, uh, all the time I have,” Diego said. “But then I have to leave, meet up with my family. We still have an apocalypse to stop.”

“So the Umbrella Academy is officially back together, huh?”

“Seems that way,” Diego shrugged.

Eudora looked him over, eyes searching. “Good,” she said at last. “I think that’s a good thing.”

“I mean, yeah, who else is going to save the world--”

“I mean for you,” she stressed. “You seem...I don’t know. Calmer? More...more grounded.” The corners of her mouth twitched in a half smile. “I think you need your family, Diego.”

Diego felt himself flush. “Yeah, well,” he said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Love ‘em or hate ‘em, can’t get rid of them. Even the dead ones end up coming back.”

“What do you m--”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cut in hastily.

Silence settled between them, and Diego knew this was the moment. “Look,” he began. “Eudora, I want to talk--”

“I’m tired,” she said abruptly. She passed a hand over her eyes, sighing. “It’s been a long night and...I have a lot to think about. Do you think we can pick this up tomorrow?”

He wanted to protest because there just wasn’t enough time, but she did look tired. “Sure, Eudora,” Diego said, rising from the bed. “I’ll...uh...I’ll be on the couch out there if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she said, pulling back the covers and tucking herself in. “And, uh, Diego?”

“Yes?”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Thank you for saving me.”

His smile was soft and his heart fluttered. “Anytime.”

\---

It was dark when Diego awoke, uncomfortably sprawled out on Eudora’s couch. For several long moments, he didn’t move, barely breathed, searching out for what had awoken him so suddenly from his sleep. The air around him was still and silent, and as he settled back, trying to convince himself there was nothing to worry about, he heard a sound.

It was a soft cry coming from Eudora’s room, and it had him bolting up and rushing down the hall in an instant.

“Dora? Are you okay?” he asked, opening the door and slipping in, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Eudora was sitting up in bed, hair matted with sweat, eyes shining glass-bright in the darkness. “ _Can’t get this fucking thing opened,_ ” she snarled, struggling uselessly with the pill bottle in her hands. “And my shoulder _fucking_ hurts.”

Willing his heart to slow down, Diego approached the bed and gently pulled the bottle of pain medication from Eudora’s hands. He popped open the cap and handed her the suggested dosage, helping her drink from the cup he had left on her bedside table.

“Those should help,” he murmured.

Eudora nodded, eyes shut in pain, wincing as she leaned back against her pillows. Her cheeks and throat were flushed, and her face was twisted in pain.

“What do you need?”

“It’s hot,” she whined, eyes still closed, kicking at the bedsheets tangled around her ankles. “It’s hot and everything hurts. The goddamned gunshot hurt less.”

Diego grimaced at her words, but carefully freed her legs from the blankets before he got up and went to her _en suite_ , grabbing a washcloth and running it under icy cold water. When he returned, he began swiping carefully at the sweat on her brow.

“Your body went into shock when you were shot,” he said quietly. “And afterwards when the docs cleaned you up. The shock helped you ignore the pain your body was going through, the medicine dulled it more. Now that both have worn off, you’re feeling the full-force of your wound. That’s why it hurts so much.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hargreeves, I also was in first-aid class with you at the academy,” Eudora rolled her eyes but leaned gratefully into the cold washcloth, groaning. “Thank you, though, this is helping.”

“I aim to please,” Diego chuckled softly.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just the soft _swish_ of the cloth against Eudora’s skin, her occasional sighs and whimpers of discomfort the only sounds made between them. Slowly, the flush faded from her face and she quieted, her breathing evening out. Diego was sure she was asleep and meant to pull away when her good hand shot out and gripped his wrist, hard.

“Diego?” Her eyes were still unnaturally bright, sweeping over his face like she was trying to commit it to memory. “Diego, I _died_.”

His stomach dropped. “No, Dora, no you did not,” he insisted. He brushed the hair from her forehead, savoring the feel of her warm skin beneath his fingertips. “I get it, I do. The first reality--the one before Five came back for us--I died too, and I know what a messed up thought that is. But you can’t focus on it, do you understand? You can’t, you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“But it did happen, Diego,” Eudora said, gripping his wrist even tighter, her eyes wild. “It did for _you_ and that means I died without...without ever...how could I have just...without even saying…?” Her breathing was coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Dora, Dora you have to calm down,” Diego shushed, stroking her hair, his own heart stuttering in his chest. “It’s okay, it’s alright. You’re here now, you _did not die_. I’ve got you, okay? _I’ve got you_.”

Eudora nodded, her eyes still wide and wet. “But you weren’t before, and that’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Diego said. “I would’ve been there sooner if I had gotten your call--”

“No, not that,” Eudora shook her head. “I pushed you away. I--” she took a deep, shuddering breath. “Years ago, after everything between us. With all the fighting and the mess, and then Suresh...I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have.”

Diego was quiet, at a loss for what to say.

“And I died...I almost died, I guess, without telling you how sorry I am for what I did,” she said. “I kept waiting for the right time...kept trying to find a moment to tell you but I always chickened out.”

A tear and rolled down her cheek. Diego swiped at it with his thumb. “I knew, Eudora,” he said, softly. “You never had to say it, I knew.”

She closed her eyes. “I was scared,” she whispered. “I blamed you for things I shouldn’t have, all the things I didn’t like about myself. I convinced myself you were the reason I was so impulsive, so angry all the time. That wasn’t right and that wasn’t fair.”

Diego cleared his throat, awkwardly. “It’s not like I made things easy for you, Dora,” he said. “And I’m sorry, too, for riling you up. That being said,” he smiled just a little. “I happen to like it when you’re angry and impulsive.”

“Oh, Diego,” Eudora groaned, moving away from his outstretched hand. “That’s not okay.”

“Why not?” he asked. “When you’re impulsive, it means you’re trusting your gut and not letting all that bullshit red-tape at the precinct getting in your way, and guess what? Your instincts are usually right. And when you’re angry it’s because you _care_ that something has gotten in your way, you care that something is unfair, and it means you’re going to _do_ something about it. Eudora,” he laughed a little, feeling his heartbeat throughout his body, unable to stop the words gushing out of him. For once in his life, his tongue felt light in his mouth. “Eudora, when you’re angry and impulsive you’re at your _best_. It’s when you trust yourself, and it’s...it’s incredible to watch. _You’re_ incredible.”

“Diego--”

“And I hate,” he rushed on. “I _hate_ that I let everything get in the way of me saying that. I should have told you when we were together, and I should have told you when we weren’t. I should have been more honest with you about how I felt, but Eudora, I was scared too, and I was an idiot. But,” he took a deep breath. “I’m not so scared anymore. And I need you to know how much I like you, I _really like you_ , good parts and bad.”

Eudora was staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted slighted. She leaned forward slowly and placed her hand on the side of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Say that again.” It was less of a demand, more of a plea.

“I like you, Eudora.”

She took a deep breath, fingers curling against his cheek, eyes searching. “When you say that,” she said slowly. “Are you trying to say you lo--”

“I have loved you, Eudora Patch, for years,” Diego whispered.

“And you mean that.” A statement of fact. “You really mean that.”

“I have meant it every time I have said it,” he said. Then, a fissure of doubt creeping in, “but I understand if you don’t--”

She guided him closer, kissing him softly.

His stomach swooped at the touch of her lips, and he sighed into her mouth, relief unknotting the tension in his shoulders he wasn’t even aware he was holding. He pressed her hand against his face, reveling in the feel of her reaching for him.

“I still don’t know how I feel, Diego,” Eudora murmured, breaking away only to press her forehead against his. “It’s too much for one night.”

“I understand,” he breathed. And then, because he didn’t know when he would get to again, Diego leaned in and stole another kiss.

Eudora made a soft sound in the back of her throat, leaning into him. “I just,” she broke away again. “I need some time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. I want to try. Can we do that?”

“Yes,” Diego said against her lips. “Yes, we can.” He kissed her again. “Provided the apocalypse doesn’t happen, again.”

Eudora pulled back, her eyes warm and soft in the rising dawn, licking her lips. “How much time do you have?”

“Not long enough,” Diego groaned. Her bedside clock seemed to be mocking him. “Quarter of an hour at most.”

She hummed, stroking a hand down his face. “Guess it would be selfish of me to keep you here when you have a whole world save, huh?”

He bit her thumb lightly, huffing a laugh. “All in a day’s work, babe,” he said. “But I’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

“Not even the end of the world could keep me from coming back for you.” He leaned in and kissed her again, slow and sweet.

She responded in kind, pulling him closer, smiling into his kiss.

\---

By the time he left, the sunrise was peaking over the trees surrounding the sidewalk, the pale golden light warm on the top of his head. Even though he was leaving the comfort of Eudora’s arms, walking towards imminent danger and the strong possibility of death and mayhem, Diego Hargreeves felt calm.

He could still feel her last kiss on his lips, the memory of her fingers on his cheek. It made his heart soar, his breath light in his throat. He could barely keep himself from grinning like a mad fool.

There was still a long road ahead--for him, for his family, for him and Eudora. Nothing could be solved in one night, he knew that, understood it in his heart and soul. But, for once in his life, he felt weightless. Not adrift and battered by the universe, as he had for so long. Bereft of his family and angry at anyone who dared to get close, lashing out and tearing down everyone around him, even as his heart screamed at him to stop.

No, now he felt weightless in a different sense, like a balloon tethered to the ground. No matter how far away he floated, he would always have a place to land.

And even though the future ahead of him was dark, filled with the possibilities of failure, he felt hope in his heart.

_I want to try. Can we do that?_

He was willing to try, to fight for what he wanted. Knew that it would be hard, that it would be scary and feel impossible at times. The road ahead would be long and difficult. But Eudora wanted to try to walk it with him. Would be waiting for him to come back to her.

And for that, he was willing to fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. As I mentioned a few times, this is the first creative writing I have done since 2011, and the first story I have ever completed. I am immensely proud of this work and just so pleased that you all have responded so positively to my writing.
> 
> I don’t see it being easy sailing for Eudora and Diego from here on out. I figure they will still fight a lot, possibly even invest in some couples therapy. But, the big difference here is I think they’re going to keep fighting for each other, instead of giving up when things get too hard. And I think that’ll make all the difference. 
> 
> NOTES:
> 
> -The first section was literally just me outlining what I wanted to write, but I liked it so I kept it.
> 
> -Doc Brown is from Back to the Future.
> 
> -I actually really don’t hate Luther as a character. I hate a lot of the choices he made, but I thought he himself was a compelling, tragic figure. That being said, I don’t think he and Diego are going to solve their differences overnight, so even in the narrative I wanted to highlight that things were rocky between them.
> 
> -I have this whole vision of the Hargreeves inherent powers and then their learned abilities. Klaus for example: his inherent power is communicating with the dead, his learned ability is channeling the dead. Allison’s inherent power is altering someone’s will, her learned ability is altering reality. Etc., etc., which I thought was a good premise for Diego to learn his powers could expand from curving anything he threw to curving anything that was in motion.
> 
> -I figure Reginald initially paid for Klaus to go to the best rehab centers money could buy so he could have a fully functioning Number Four. However, the show clearly indicates that Klaus wanted nothing to do with sobriety (until he met Dave) so I imagine him not taking rehab very seriously...that being said, I do take rehabilitation, addiction and mental health seriously so please don’t confuse Diego and Klaus joking around about it as an indication that I think any of that is a laughing matter.
> 
> -“The time is out of joint,” is from Hamlet Act I Scene V.
> 
> -“There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow,” is also from Hamlet, Act V Scene II. 
> 
> -The monkey psych experiment with terry cloth dolls is Harlow's "Monkey Love Experiment," and it is supremely messed up and also really interesting, and from there we have an understanding of "contact comfort" as it relates to motherhood and child rearing. Oh yes. I have taken Intro to Psych, and I even remember some things.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @Wyrd-Syster


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